With All My Heart
by Hipparu
Summary: Yeah it was late and I had no idea what I was doing. Please forgive me for this mess. Also don't expect flowers and rainbows with this fic. I don't like happy endings much. -Mavin, RoosterTeeth, rated K, I do not own or am affiliated with RoosterTeeth. I honestly have no idea what I'm doing anymore.-


**So I couldn't sleep... I'm so sorry for this mess.**

* * *

I always considered Michael and I to be a normal couple, even if we were both males. To me that made no difference. Why should it matter? Even if my little Michael was a girl I'd still love him- er- _her_ in that case. Heh. Michael would've loved me too, because you love someone based on beliefs and traits, not some constructed barrier that separates two different types of humans. To me, that barrier does not exist. I love you for your_ personality_, not what's in your pants.

If there's any personality I absolutely love, however, it's Michael's. The way he got when he was grumpy just made me so giddy. The way he'd scream my name when I did something mischievous made my little grin spread wider across my face. No matter how upset he got, I'd always make it better when we went back to his apartment. Whether it was laying there with him and watching a movie or cooking him a dinner. He would tell me that he wasn't _really_ angry in the first place, but I'd still like to do things for him because I knew how much I was.

I loved him, and he loved me.

Whenever I got home from England he'd be excited. He'd tell me about all the things I missed and all the things we needed to do. He'd take me everywhere; to the coffee shop, arcade, and even the zoo at one point. Though, while we were out, he would never hold my hand. I always saw young couples doing it and looking so _happy_ when they did so. I never asked him about it, though. Because I knew that he loved me, and I loved him too. So much.

But if he loved me, why wouldn't he show everyone that I was his? How come whenever I tried to hug him around our friends he'd push me away and make jokes? I always assumed he was nervous. Our society isn't exactly _kind_ to those who are like us. Besides, whenever we got home he'd hug me and make it up to me, and that made me forget completely about what had happened. Because I loved my little Michael, and he loved me.

But if he loved me, why wouldn't he celebrate our one year anniversary together? He tried telling me it was because he had even bigger plans when we spent _ten_ years together. And I wore a smile so bright not even the rainy weather brought me down. Because I had spent a year with someone who I had given my heart to. I had spent three-hundred and sixty-five days with someone who made my head spin every time he kissed me and said my name. I always got butterflies when he called me with his scratchy voice that I loved so dearly. He said that he loved me voice, too. More specifically my accent. I loved everything about him, and he loved everything about me.

But if he loved me so much, why did he keep looking and talking to that girl in the office who was named Lindsay? I kept telling myself that I was being paranoid. I would mentally slap myself every time I got jealous over seeing them all giggly and whispering. They were friends, that's it. They were just friends because Michael loved me enough to spend a year and a half with me, so why would he just get bored and ditch me for some redhead in the office? I loved Michael to my heart's extent and he loved me in return.

But if he loved me so much, then why did he sit me down in his apartment one night and tell me something I refused to believe? He told me that he had feelings for Lindsay, and that there was nothing left for me. I should just move on, he said. I tried asking, _begging_, for a reason as to why he did this, but he would shake his head and say that it was over. He kept telling me that I was too much to handle sometimes and that Lindsay was _perfect_. I didn't want to believe it; why would I? But after a while Michael practically threw me out of his apartment and got with Lindsay almost immediately after. But that didn't matter to me, I still loved Michael.

I spent a lot of time after that sitting in my own apartment glaring at myself in the mirror. Still do. I stare at the figure who stares back at me and wonder why it can't be _Lindsay_. If only I were _tolerable_. If only I were smart, funny, quirky,_ Lindsay._ I didn't understand why I couldn't fix what was wrong with me, why I couldn't be good enough for him. I would've fixed myself. I would've done _anything_ to keep him. Because he was my little Michael, and I loved him.

I still love him.

With all my heart.

* * *

**Again, I'm ****_so _****sorry for this. I needed something to occupy myself and writing just seemed like a good thing to do. If you read and somehow found this okay, thank you, but you might be on some hardcore drugs. I wish my writing would ****_improve_****! I want to fix it. I love writing, but mine is just so lwdakwdjawldkajqslxdkn. That should be a good word to describe it. Anyway, thanks for reading. **


End file.
